Mudblood
by Cynical-Smile01
Summary: It's been 9 years since the battle of Hogwarts. Old prejudices are still rife at Hogwarts on both sides and post-Voldemort magical Britain is on the verge of collapse if nothing is done. This is the story of one girl wanting to change things for good.
1. Meeting Your Destiny

**Chapter 1: Meeting your Destiny**

**If I was JK Rowling I would be selling this for shed loads of money, not posting it as fan fiction. You can therefore assume I am not, infact, JK Rowling nor do I own the rights to Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I am also not Shakespeare, as he is dead, or the inventor of memory sticks because I wasn't even able to use a computer when they were released. So I basically own nothing you recognise. Neville's title is borrowed from justanothermuggle and I claim no rights over it. Thank you very much to my wonderful beta Lady Twi, who has put up with many idiotic sentences and poorly thought out dialogue on my part.**

The short walk to the local secondary school wasn't my idea of fun. We were heading there so we could use their field for tag rugby. I mean what is the point of tag rugby. I would so much rather play contact rugby. At least then I can injure the stupid morons who get in my way. For some reason the other children were talking on the way there about football teams. No-one appreciates rugby it seems. Even if it is Tag Rugby.

"Yeah, Manchester United is the best team in the league" Constant talking was being rammed down my ear.

"Nah, Liverpool is so much better"

"What about you Amber?" The only person who was slightly nice to me actually decided to include me.

"Well, I don't really support a club. I mean, I have no need. It's a stupid sport anyway. Just like you, Louise, I guess." I wasn't prepared to take what I knew was coming without getting something in first.

"What? You freak," Here she goes, snarling about me, I was right, I could tell something was coming. "How can you not like football? It's, like, the best game in the world! Anyway, I'm not stupid. Honestly, my mum says I'm really smart."

"Yeah, compared to your mother I'm sure you are. Just tell me, was it an accident when she lost all those brain cells, or did she never possess them?" I thought it best to get the last word it. No way was I taking anything lying down. Stupid bitch. Honestly some people could be so insulting sometimes! Not everyone likes football. Not to mention she was incredibly thick. I really hated when people were thick. But…but I was hurt. All I wanted at first was to be friends. That was before she slammed me down. It wasn't the first time I had a comment about how I wasn't normal. I stared straight at her. Tried to imagine her on fire or something. Something delightfully satisfying, so she could feel physically what I felt on the inside. And then it happened. What I wanted happened. Just like every time I wanted revenge. Smoke started billowing from her cardigan. Other students started screaming and crying, yelling that Louise was on fire. Teachers came running as Louise struggled out of her burning garment. More of them screeched "It was Amber!", "Saw it with my own eyes!"

"Don't be silly. I know she tells tales about you guys but how could she…" She was silenced. I was beginning to shake from expending too much energy. All I could do was to stare at the cardigan, smouldering away on the tarmac. Someone knocked me, breaking my concentration. I looked up, and now I could see the fear in her eyes. Just like every teacher who saw me when I was hurting someone. They never come back the next day. Medical leave, we're told. They wouldn't ever tell the truth. No, nothing to ruin the image of their nice, friendly school.

At home that night I stared into the mirror in front of me as I ran the comb through burning locks. A pair of vivid green eyes stared back at me, but never seemed like they were really mine. Pretty, they are. And I am a freak. Freaks don't look pretty. They told me so, the other children. I'd known I was different from the other kids at my school since I was in reception. Nobody got on with me when I was little. I was the most darling of 5 year olds; all the parents wanted a child like me. So they, the other children, disliked me. What 5 year old would be so cruel? _I have been left with the worst colouring pencils and I am bit upset no-one would share the better ones they had got first when there is a small light that no-one noticed and the pencils were immaculate, better than anyone else's. I had been told all my life: _But Amber, honey, you can't be magical - only fairies and Father Christmas and people like that can do magic_**.**__ How could I have done this? No-one can do magic, it doesn't exist. My parents may play along with Father Christmas, but I don't. So how can this have happened? It shouldn't have. It's impossible. I don't have a fairy godmother. I must have done this. But I couldn't have. Now I had made the fatal mistake of getting distracted. The class bully, a boy called Justin, who sits at my table notices they're nicer than his but when he tries to grab them (personally, I think he only tried because he was much bigger than me) they are stuck like they are super-glued to my hand. I hated how he tried to take advantage of people weaker than him and stare daggers at him. All I can think of was I wanted to make him stop. Justin then starts to choke. His jumper begins to shrink. I realise I have done it and I am terrified. Then it stops. Justin only pauses to call me a freak and run. He leaves the school the next day. And all the other children know is that the last words he uttered in our school was "Get away from me you freak." And he had said that to me. Why should they think differently? _I was too absorbed in my own memories to even notice the single tear that stole down my cheek. But I noticed the flood as I cried myself to sleep that night.

DotDotDot

The next day I woke with a renewed vigour. It was time to reconsider my position. SATs were over, it was June. One more month until I was free from that hell hole and on my way to secondary school. I hoped that everyone would be more accepting there, but I knew in my heart of hearts that wasn't something I should even think, because it would be getting my hopes up too much. I jumped as I heard the bell ring.

"Good morning, my name is Pomona Sprout; please may I come in and discuss something with you?"

Some strange person was at the door. I heard the door slam and the adults went into the living room. I went back to my room to read my book. Why should I care about someone wanting to speak to my parents? Being a "freak" hadn't served me well in terms of friendships so I was well read in terms of literature. Of course, this labelled me as a weirdo as well as a freak. I hadn't even reached my room at the top of the house when my mum called my name. I slowly walked downstairs. It wasn't that I was shy, just that I had wanted to read. There she was, some batty old witch sitting on the couch, taking me away from my precious books.

"I take it this is your daughter?" The strange lady looked right at me. How odd? I wasn't used to being centre of attention. 7 years was enough to teach me to stay in the background when possible.

"Yes, this is Amber" My mum was as uncomfortable as I was. Why shouldn't she be? A strange person invites themselves into your house, and you aren't uncomfortable. And they refer to your 11 year old daughter. Very odd.

"Well, let's start then. My name is Pomona Sprout. I'm a professor at a school, a school I have come to offer Amber a place at.-"

"But she's already been allocated a school," My dad, ever on top of things. "Why would she be given a place elsewhere?"

"I understand, but she's been down for this school since she was born. Have you ever noticed her do something strange or abnormal...?"

I thought back to the lad who started choking and the girl who cornered me and passed out, then most recently Louise and the burning cardigan. I nodded, ever so slightly, indicating I hadn't even told my parents, for fear of ridicule.

"Magic exists. What you have seen was the result of your magic exploding out of you, Amber." She paused. "Amber…you are a witch."

My parents spluttered in unison: "You mean…magic…how did that happen?"

"There are thousands of witches and wizards that live all over the country in hiding. Sometimes the ability to do magic appears in those of non magical heritage. Research in the Department of Mysteries has revealed these people tend to have a squib, a non-magical person from a magical family, ancestor. They married muggles, non-magical people, and their history died with them." She said it oh-so-matter-of-factly, as if this was common knowledge. Well, I guess it was in the magical world.

"So all those people in history who were burned at the stake for being witches, they actually _were_ witches? You mean, they weren't making it all up?" Now this piqued my curiosity.

"Well, no. You'll learn about it in History of Magic, but basically, a witch or wizard couldn't be burnt. They'd freeze the flames so they weren't harmed."

Well, this surely explained a lot of things. Nevertheless, I was still suspicious. How could I know that it wasn't a cruel trick played by the teachers, conspiring with my parents to send me away? They could think I was crazy. Try to trick me by saying they are going to send me somewhere that understands me.

"Please can you _show_ me some magic?" Well, you can't blame me for being wary.

"Sure, why not?"

The coffee table started to float. The professor, Sprout I think she said her name was, hadn't said a word.

"Wow!"

"Do I take it you want to accept a place at the school?"

I didn't need to think about it long. After all, what else did I have to live for in this world? To live for the days of being tormented and isolated? "Of course!" Then as an after thought added "What's it called?"

"Hogwarts."

"What a funny name." I had to stifle my giggles at this point. I hope I wasn't too impolite. "When would I start? I mean, I don't know, would I start immediately…"

"Term begins on September 1st. However you will need to by some supplies before you go. The easiest way to explain is to give you your letter."

She handed me an envelope made of thick, yellow parchment with cursive writing in beautiful green ink. The letter seal appeared to be the crest of the school. There were 4 sections: A badger, a snake, an eagle and a lion. I peeled the seal and opened this heavy, old fashioned envelope. There was two pieces of the same, thick paper inside. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall  
(Order of Merlin, First Class)

Dear Miss Darrow,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Pomona Sprout  
Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
sets of plain work robes (black)  
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk

A Revised History of Magic by Hermione Weasley

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllidia Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Defensive Magic by William Weasley and Harry Potter

A Study of British Muggles in the 21st Century by Alison O'Byrne

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
1 basic potion ingredient pack

1 trunk

1 school bag

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

I began contemplating what this meant. A new life, a new start, where I wouldn't be judged because of something I couldn't control. Hang on… "Are…are there many students like me?" My voice went lower and I started to worry I'd stick out like a sore thumb at Hogwarts. I mean, everyone else would know loads of magic. I wanted to fit in; I wanted a life where I had friends.

"Of course, don't worry my dear, muggle born students make up approximately 25% of our intake." At least I wasn't alone as a newbie in the Wizarding World.

"That's good. Where can you buy all this stuff? I mean it's not like I could go to the local high street to get it."

"I might as well show you. Do you have anything planned to do for the rest of the day?"

"No," my dad answered "Just another point, how much would it cost to send Amber to this school. You make it sound like a private school, and even if it isn't, I have no idea how much the supply list will cost."

"Well, because you didn't know about magic until today you haven't been preparing to pay for a magical education and, as such, our ministry gets the money your government would have spent on her and uses that to cover our costs. All you are responsible for is the supply list. You will have to exchange some muggle money into Galleons but the goblins have a quite reasonable exchange rate currently and you'll find some things are a lot cheaper comparatively. If money is a problem we can give you a fund to help pay for the equipment."

"Oh no, it's not a problem I was just wondering."

"Very well, do you have some money on you now?

My dad pulled out his wallet and counted "Will £200 pounds be enough? I can withdraw some more if needs be."

"Let me think, at the moment it is 1 Galleon to £5 so that's…"

"40 Galleons," She looked back at me "Maths has always been my strong point."

"Well, I'm sure our Arithmancy teacher will look forward to teaching you in a few years…"

"You have magic to do with maths! Wicked!"

"Yes, quite. Personally I've never really got it but I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I tend to stick to my plants in the greenhouses but there you go. And no, I'm afraid not. You have to get 8 textbooks and those cost roughly 7 galleons each as well as everything else. I would exchange…£700 pounds so you have enough for equipment and some left over so Amber can buy some sweets on the train to Hogwarts and anything else she may wish to buy this year so you don't have to keep coming back to Gringotts. The muggle studies teacher told me to tell you that Gringotts now has something called an ATM machine for muggle customers. " She then pulled out a memory stick "Now I don't remember what it is but our muggle studies professor also told me it wouldn't look suspicious if I had it on me…"

"It's a memory stick, professor." I told her, trying to suppress yet another giggle. Sprout is so funny, what with all of her questioning household objects.

"That's it, personally I don't get the point of it, I mean it looks nothing like a stick and why on earth would you want to put your memory in it but, your choice."

This only made me want to laugh harder. "You use it to save information. Instead of having to write something up many times you can save it on a COMPUTER. A memory stick, or as some call it a DATA STICK, can move this information between computers. They taught us that in ICT, but I already knew how because I've used computers since I was three."

"That sounds more logical but it's so much easier just to charm quills to write it again and again. Anyway, let's get back to the point; this…data stick has been charmed to be a portkey. A portkey will, when activated, transport the person or persons holding it to anywhere in the world. This is a special one because I can activate it when necessary. It will take us to Diagon Alley which is the magical shopping place of choice for most witches and wizards. It sells all of the resources required for Hogwarts. Please place a finger on the object."

When my dad had got his card and we all had done as she had asked she took out her wand and tapped it. I felt a jerk in my gut that I can only describe as similar to the punch I got from another kid whose jumper throttled her - by accident, of course. My finger was stuck to the memory stick like it was held there by super glue and I kept spinning round and round like this was some warped rollercoaster ride that was sped up. I felt sick from the dizziness and I wanted solid ground beneath my feet. And then it stopped. I'd landed in what looked like the back room of an ancient, but spotless, pub. Professor Sprout led us out the door and into the bar. A lady who had long blond hair and had a notepad floating in the air above her head was serving the tables. She heard the door close and turned round, face breaking into a broad smile.

"Professor, it's been ages since you were last here. What can the Leaky get you today? The usual?"

"No thanks Hannah, I'm helping Amber get her Hogwarts equipment. And honestly, you're not a student anymore. You can call me Pomona!"

"Of course, Pomona. And sorry Amber I didn't see you there. So, you must be a muggle born?"

"Don't worry and yes, I only found out about magic…an hour ago. Everything is amazing, and, and, well magical!" For some reason I felt comfortable around her, even though I had only met her a few seconds previously. Shall we call it 'Witches Intuition'? I would have to watch my words though. I had no inclination to start of on the wrong foot.

"Well, dear, this _is _a magical world. You can do magic, remember?" She tweaked my cheek. I really hated that normally, but honestly it was a nice gesture. "You'll learn quickly enough. I mean the brightest witch I've ever known is a muggle born, no offence Pomona, not to put down your abilities."

"None taken. Hannah, none at all! I know Hermione Weasley is an incredibly talented witch. I have very little skill outside my greenhouses. Is Neville about? I thought I'd introduce him to Amber?"

"Sure, I'll just go and get him." She turned around and disappeared through a door behind the bar.

"Sorry Amber, Mr. and Mrs. Darrow, that was Hannah Abbott-Longbottom. She was in my house when she was at Hogwarts. She's the landlady of this pub and married to my Associate Professor of Herbology and Gardener, Neville Longbottom. He is quite famous for his role in a war that we had 9 years ago, when he was 17." A WAR! They had a war not a decade ago, and they expect me to be comfortable with it thrown in like that!

A man followed behind Hannah as she re-entered. His appearance shocked me a little. It seemed he had more scar tissue than flesh. Most noticeable were the scars on his wrists and two scabs running down his cheeks, on either side, that looked as though it must have been a curse that never healed or something. I'd have to read up on it. About 6 feet and very muscular, I have to say I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

"I'm very pleased to meet you sir."

Professor Sprout introduced us: "Amber, I'd like you to meet Professor Longbottom who will be your Herbology teacher. Neville, this is Amber Darrow a muggle born student who is getting her supplies today."

"And a pleasure it is to meet you too Miss Darrow. I must say you are the only student I've met who when introduced doesn't start shaking under my glaze. I'm glad. It really doesn't do well having my students terrified of me. I remember being terrified of my potions professor," He shivered involuntarily. "Yes, thank Merlin he's dead. I wouldn't cope being at Hogwarts if he was still there. I know I'm quite intimidating but let's just say I gave as good as I got in the end. The Death Eaters had it coming to them. If you want to know more read your history text or just wait for the lecture you get about the war in history of magic. I help with the section on the Hogwarts resistance. You're very lucky Professor Binns decided to spend the rest of eternity writing more books about goblin revolutions or I doubt you would be interested. And you get to spend a few hours listening to me regale my youthful days. I even considered calling the ghost busters in. Surely that would be worthy of an award for services to the school Pomona?"

"And I'm quite sure generations of students would be thanking you! We need to be getting on now but I'll see you next month for the team planning session if not before. Goodbye then."

"Goodbye Professor." I called. He was nice.

"See you Pomona, Miss Darrow." Professor Longbottom bid us farewell. Sprout led us off to the side.

"Professor Binns was the only ghost professor Hogwarts has ever had and most people tended to doze off in his lessons." Professor Sprout explained.

"Cool! It almost sounds like something out of a film!"

"It honestly isn't."

**Yes, yes; I know Amber looks like Lily (Evans) Potter but that's only because they used to think Red hair and Green eyes were the mark of a witch, and I wanted to give Amber these attributes too. I can't say how long it will be until the next chapter is up because it needs to be edited, but I can say I have 9 chapters currently written. **


	2. Rosewood and Centaur

**Chapter 2: Rosewood and Centaur **

**Slug and Jiggers have unfortunately run out of Lacewing Flies so I'm unable to prepare Polyjuice Potion to make me JK Rowling. I am also not Charles Dickens, as he is not only dead but was also a bloke. PL Travers is also dead but was female like myself. I don't own the rights to anything you recognise. Poem from Chapter 5 Philosophers Stone. ****Many thanks to my amazing beta Lady Twi whom I couldn't do without.**

The four of us walked into this tiny courtyard that was empty, save for a few bins. Wondering what on earth was going on I subconsciously moved closer to my parents. Sprout took out her wand and tapped some bricks on the wall in front of her. The wall started to move and an archway appeared. Before me stood a bustling cobbled street full of shops selling a whole array of magical items. There was an apothecary, which I assumed sold potion ingredients although I wondered how similar they were to the ones I'd read about. Eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog sprang to mind. Magical Menagerie had real live owls outside it, as did Eylop's Owl Emporium. I noticed with great relish a book shop that was advertising a 50% off special offer on selected books. There were some stands that were selling a whole array of magical sweets. An Ice-Cream Parlour had some customers outside eating towering, delectable looking sundaes. I felt comfortable in this environment. It was almost like a long lost friend. I had an urge to take a picture so that whenever I felt down I could remind myself of this place. Even the air seemed to have a magical quality to it.

Sprout tapped me on the shoulder then said "Welcome, Amber, to Diagon Alley." My jaw dropped to the floor, and I could see myself looking very much like a cartoon character.

DotDotDot

Our first stop was Gringotts, the wizard bank. Personally I was more than a bit annoyed at that description since witches use it as well, I guess muggles do as well but they're there to get magical money, however, I let it slide. I was more than occupied taking in the beautiful façade of the bank. The steps and columns seemed to be made of some highly polished white stone that a guess I would say was marble. The walls were white like on those on the posh houses that were in Oliver or Mary Poppins. The doors looked like they were made of solid metal but I highly doubted it as they would be too heavy. Upon the bronze metal was an inscription:

_Enter stranger but take a heed,_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors,_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief you have been warned, beware,_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

This sent shivers down my spine. I took it that they didn't like bank robbers here and I wondered if anyone had robbed it. I guessed not as it sounded like their security measures were much better than that of any muggle bank. I mean they have magic after all. They took us to see a bank at school once. Of course, I was the only one who listened. Non-magical banks use numbers to protect their money. What do they use here? Dragons?

Stepping through the doors I did a double take. It wasn't the mounds of gold or the marble and ornately decorated furniture that shocked me but the…people (though I wasn't quite sure they were human) staffing the counters. They all had pointy ears, dark eyes, extremely long fingers and a receding hair line, so I assumed this were normal and not the passage of time. Were they elves?

"What…are they? They aren't human." I muttered under my breath.

Sprout had either heard me or guessed from the shocked look on my face what was distracting me and responded,

"Goblins. Never trust a Goblin except when it comes to money. Goblins have a different outlook on life and the rules of society than humans. Just stay with me and your parents."

I looked to my parents for reassurance but they were as nervous as I was. Mum was grasping her handbag closely, Dad had his hand round her protectively and both looking quickly from side to side. Fat lot of help they'll be.

First we were directed to the ATM where we could withdraw muggle money. It seems you can't directly withdraw galleons.

Next she led us over to a desk where a goblin was completing what I assumed was paperwork. Even in the magical world people were tied down by paperwork. Why couldn't they just cut that by charming everything to make its own documents? It would just make everything more efficient. My dad always complains about paperwork, an my mum to a lesser extent. Ah well, everywhere has bureaucracy. A sign was hung next to the goblin which gave the exchange rate, exactly like Professor Sprout had said at 1 galleon to £5.

"Hello, welcome to Gringotts. My name is Dimorph and I will be serving you today. How may I help you?" The goblin, Dimorph, gave this little speech in a very bored, monotonous voice that indicated that he was less than pleased to see us. I wasn't surprised. If I had to fill out paperwork all day I would be bored stiff as well.

"My name is Pomona Sprout and I am assisting Mr. and Mrs. Darrow here with changing some muggle money."

"Very well. How much do they wish to change?"

"£700 pounds."

"At our current exchange rate that will be 140 galleons. Please hand over the money."

My Mum took my Dad's wallet out of her handbag where they'd placed it for safe keeping. I know they are in an unfamiliar environment but do they really expect to get mugged. The Artful Dodger and his gang of pickpockets aren't round the corner no matter how much Diagon Alley looks like 19th century London. She withdrew the £700 pounds and placed it on the counter. In return the goblin counted out 14, 10 galleon bags. Sprout swept them into a pouch and handed that back over to my parents, who took it and quickly stowed it away.

"Thank you, NEXT."

Well, you can't deny goblins are efficient when it comes to dealing with customers.

"We also have two more coins. A Sickle made out of silver, 17 of them to a galleon, and a bronze Knut, 29 Knuts to the sickle. Quite simple really. When you need more money you simply need to come here and exchange some more. It's quite straightforward. All goblins behave like the one you've just met, so you just behave like I did." Sprout told my parents as we walked back to the alley.

As soon as we got outside I decided where I wanted to go first but in reality it had been decided when we first arrived. Any guesses?

"So, where shall we go first…?"

"The bookstore!"

"You are just like the Ravenclaws dear. They always want books as well. That's one of the houses at Hogwarts. They are very inquisitive too. No I'm afraid the bookstore will have to wait until you have your trunk because if you buy half as many books as I suspect you will you won't be able to carry them."

"Can't you make them lighter?"

"I could but they might blow away in the breeze…"

"Oh come on! I'm not falling for that. You could have just said you couldn't do it. I wouldn't have known. If you want a practical list though: trunk, clothes, potions stuff, telescope, books, wand, and owl."

"I should have learnt ages ago not to try to pull the wool over student's eyes. That does sound like the best list. May I ask why you have chosen an owl already though?"

"Owls are more mysterious. Toads have slimy skin which is horrid and cats sleep all day. Also, cats are what all the storybook witches have and I want to have something different. I've read loads of books where the witch has a cat. It isn't original."

"Good a reason as any. Owls can also deliver post so you can keep in touch with your family. Let's go to that luggage store there. I always use that one."

The luggage store was interesting. There was no suitcases like a normal – I mean muggle – store. Instead there were rows upon rows of trunks. Trunks with all sorts of features. There were pink trunks, blue trunks, ones that changed with your mood, trunks with something called an undetectable extension charm, sponsored by that witch Hannah Abbott-Longbottom mentioned, who had written one of my textbooks, Hermione Weasley. It was an emporium of trunks. How was one to choose from the impressive selection? Easy, they had to have a standard Hogwarts issue one, didn't they?

After ages of searching along with some help from Professor Sprout and my parents we found a nice, large, plain brown trunk with a Hogwarts crest on, just like the back of my letter. At 15 galleons it was very reasonable and I would use it a lot. That also had my initials printed on it. So Item 1, Check. 1 shiny new brown Hogwarts trunk with ALD stamped on. (The "L" stands for Louise. Yes, I know. I hated my middle name, but I hadn't had much choice at the time, had I?)

The robe store was fun as I had never seen robes before. I had to get the 3 robes in black for school and the cloak with a silver fastening but then I could choose a formal wear, for parties where everyone dressed up. I was warned to stay away from the House colours until I was sorted. So for that reason I chose a really nice deep purple that had purple ribbons at the edge. I decided I would buy some more robes once I knew which house I was in. I had wanted a blue but I liked these more and blue they told me was a house colour. They said they would keep my measurements on record and once I was sorted I could order some more. It was acceptable now to wear muggle clothes as standard wear, Sprout said. Apparently a really large quantity of dragon hide had just come in so I got a nice pair of gloves. The silver fastening was challenging to choose but I got one in the end that looked like an owl with outstretched wings.

I wasn't a fan of the Apothecary. It smelt horrid and some of the displays were revolting. Rat spleenens and toad guts out in the open. I just got a box I was told would be fine for first year potions. We paid and left. We also got some parchment, quills and ink. How archaic? In addition I got a dictation quill which Sprout said would be useful for lecture lessons.

I didn't do much exploring in the cauldron or astronomy shops either, on the grounds I had a specific thing to get. Really, I wanted to get to the bookstore. This bookstore was amazing. Tons of thick tomes waiting to be devoured by the hungry reader. She was right that I'd need that trunk. Unfortunately only some flop called Gilderoy Lockhart's books were on offer. Outlandish portraits of him graced the covers. Jesus Christ! How much hair gel has he used? I left Sprout and my parents to find the set books and disappeared behind the mounds. Sprout suggested I get one or two modern texts about the magical world, so I slid into a tiny gap and started searching. I emerged half an hour later with 1 book called Hogwarts, A History and another a guide for muggle born children.

Now for the part every magical child wants. The Wand.

The wand shop was dusty and you could have heard a pin drop. I jumped when a bell rang and this old man, who looked a little worse for wear came sliding on those ladders you find in huge libraries. Did everyone suffer in this war?

"Ah, Pomona. Another young charge I see?"

"Yes this is Amber Darrow."

"So, Miss Darrow." He paused. "I sold almost every wand in use in Great Britain. I remember every single one. Professor Sprout here favoured a wand of Alder with a Unicorn tail core. 12 inches. I myself prefer Hornbeam, 12¾, Dragon Heartstring. But!" He exclaimed, "It is not about us today, it is about you. I wonder what wand you will favour…Let's see…And your wand arm?"

"I…I'm right handed?"

A measuring tape started measuring me and then stopped. He wandered off into the rear of the shop and came back with a few boxes.

"Why don't you try this one. Hornbeam and Unicorn. 9 inches precisely. Rigid. Good all rounder. A normal combination. But will it suit you?" He extended the handle in my direction.

I took it and gave it a wave. A window smashed. He repaired it with a flick of his wand.

"How about an Alder and Phoenix feather wand. 10¾ inches. Unyielding. Slightly more unusual." A glass vase shattered.

"No! That obviously won't do. Now…Um," He was riffling through his pile of wands. "Let's try one of my experiments. I have experimented with centaur hair in the past year, you see. I was never able to get hold of some, but my friend Luna managed to procure some last time she visited Hogwarts. Willow and Centaur. 11½. Whippy. Good for charm work."

This made the pillow implode.

"Core is there…Try this. Rosewood and Centaur. 10 1/4. Flexible. Duelling and Spell Manipulation."

Focusing on wanting to rid the dust that was tickling my nose I waved it. The effect it had on the shop was astonishing. Instantaneously it was clean and bright. Silver sparks shot out the end.

"Bravo. You are my first successful pairing with a centaur wand." He paused, running his long, spindly fingers up and down my new wand. "This wand will serve you well, of that I'm sure. You'll do fine things with this wand, but you yourself are responsible, not the wand. It is a rare day I meet someone who matches a new core, and I must say it has been over 70 years since I matched anyone with a Rosewood wand, and almost 13 years since I met someone who possessed one. An unusual person you are Miss Darrow." His eyes stared at me, like they bored a hole into me. "That'll be 7 galleons."

I handed over the gold galleons and left the shop feeling quite pleased. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Ollivander waved his wand and dust appeared over the shop again. How odd.

"One stop left, Eylop's Owl Emporium." Professor Sprout reminded me.

Choosing an owl was hard. I wanted one not too menacing but not too cutesy that they looked like they were from a manga cartoon. Not too big but large enough to carry small parcels. Then I found her. Hopping alone at the back of a cage was a small brown owl that I fell in love with.

"Mum, Dad can we get this one, please? Pretty please!"

"How much is it?"

"10 galleons. You can then buy a start up pack with enough food to last ages and a small perch."

"Fine. Who am I to stop you? But you are cleaning it out."

"Deal." We took the owl to pay, but we had to queue for a bit, so I wandered off to explore. There was a young lad who saw me as I was examining a regal looking specimen. He turned from the bird he was looking at and said:

"So, are you a first year too."

"Yes," I replied politely, "I'm looking forward to it, aren't you."

"Well, I suppose. I don't like the rules on pets though. Couldn't we bring snakes or something? So much more interesting. And the uniform is so cheap quality. Not befitting of a Slytherin. That's where I want to be sorted. What about you?" I liked this boy less and less by the minute.

"I like the uniform; I find it very comfortable indeed. I'm afraid I don't know anything about the houses, you see I'm muggleborn, and I only found out about magic today." A scowl appeared on his face, and then he whispered, ever so slightly:

"Filthy mudblood, you don't belong in our society."

"Excuse me?"

"Get lost mudblood. I told you, didn't I?"

I grabbed him by the collar, shoved him up against the nearest wall and asked him again: "You called me a mudblood. What does that mean? It obviously isn't very nice. Are you liking someone being mean to you back? Are you going to tell me?" Time to turn on the evils. I may be little but I wasn't to be messed with, and he was quite short. My eyes narrowed and I twisted my fist holding his collar tighter. What should I do? Set him on fire…?

I was shoved away with surprising strength. As I stumbled he turned and yelled: "Mother, I don't really like any of these owls, shall we go?" And then he stalked out. What did that sentence mean? It was clearly very derogatory. I certainly did not want to find myself in another situation where I was disliked. My conclusion was to ask Professor Sprout:

"Professor, what does the word Mudblood mean?" I inquired when we sat eating in a small café, before we went home. My parents were busy talking with the owner.

"Where did you hear that word Amber." She seemed very shocked.

"A boy whispered it to me in Eylops when he found out I was muggleborn. It didn't sound very friendly."

"No, it isn't. It is a vile insult for someone from a purely muggle family, someone like yourself. It means dirty blood. Some people do not believe muggleborns belong in our society. That's why we had that war 9 years ago. We evidently won, but there are still some people who say that they are superior. Thankfully it is a very small minority, and an even smaller number who actually believe it. You'll be fine; you just had the misfortune to meet one of those bigots." And with that she continued sipping her soup.

What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and accept it? I didn't know how to react to such words. In the space of a day my whole life had been turned upside down. I couldn't quite comprehend that in September I would be off to magic school. I would leave behind everything I knew in search of who I truly was. Was I making the right choice? They had just come out of a war, after all. I didn't know how dangerous this world was! Would anyone like me? It was a sad fact that most people didn't seem to like me, and that was the bald truth.


	3. Understanding

**Chapter 3: Understanding**

**I don't own Harry Potter, this is JKR's garden, and I've just come to play. Much gratitude to my beta, Lady Twi.**

A peck on the shoulder awoke me from my thoughts. My new owl wanted attention. I suppose I must give her a name. I sat staring at my owl with absolutely no idea as to what to call her. Lucy? Abby? Amber 2? No idea. She could always be just called owl, after all. Then I remembered the name of this girl who I met years ago. Carys. That was it. I remember thinking how magical and unusual it sounded. Nothing more than that, we weren't friends or anything, but I had always been drawn to unusual names. Mine was so _normal _in comparison. I tested it out.

"Carys!" She hooted and nuzzled me, then took flight.

Carys was currently exploring my room, pausing occasionally to drink from her water bowl. She was magnificent in flight, brown wings, flecked with white. Her head bobbed up and down with each flap. _I must teach her some tricks _I thought and I chucked her an owl treat. She caught it by going into a dive.

"Come here Carys!" She came and landed on my shoulder. "Well done Carys!" I petted her and gave her another owl treat. Opening the window I told her. "Go and explore the area, Carys" and I settled down to discover this new world.

DotDotDot

My fingers traced the gilded lettering on my new books that sat on my bedside table, the books which I had just finished reading. Words danced about my head with no meaning; they just screeched at me. My body began to shake, furniture was levitated. That world wasn't safe. They had huge snakes that killed with a single look, children possessed and they knew nothing. I grabbed the revised history of magic and launched at the wall. Why did everything have to seem so much more amazing, yet so much more terrifying? These were war heroes who were still children I was reading about, who walked the streets, not just bland, obscure faces. Curled up into a ball I sobbed for the suffering of people I didn't know and in some cases never could. Would they expect me to be like that: perfect? I couldn't cope with this world. Every emotion bubbled to the surface and I screamed. My current world went black.

I sit in a white, characterless room watching Professor Longbottom being tortured. This isn't Professor Longbottom, the teacher, as I had met him; rather it was the Neville Longbottom, the boy, whose picture graced a whole page in my textbook, apparently taken the summer before his 7th year. Fresh faced, without the scars which ran across his cheeks. He doesn't hold the schooled features I had seen when I met him, but is screaming, screaming in pain and agony, his face superimposed on the moving picture of someone under the cruciatus curse. A fiery red headed girl pushes in front of him and yells for them to back down but she is struck with the infamous torture unforgiveable. It was a picture of the Young Ginny Weasley I saw. She too had a full page photo of herself. Tears pour down my cheeks as I try to look for a way out of the suddenly impenetrable mass of people. A twisted face leers at me; a wand is jabbed towards me and all I can feel is a thousand knifes being simultaneously stabbed into me.

The scene shifts.

I see a whip being struck down across the back of a boy. Again and again and again, a dozen of times now, it goes on and on, never ending. The small form of an innocent child. A blank face, not a face at all really, a blank canvas. A lipless mouth laughs. The torturer finds it funny. There was a scream. A never ending scream coming from the small form. A scream that pierces my ear drums. A scream that sounds in my head, banging off my skull. The child could be no older than year 9. My cousin is that age. And now the child has Philip's face. Blood pools in the shoulder blade and runs down the back. The whip falls again and it's coated in crimson. Crimson splatters the white walls of this world. More blood than I thought a human could hold. The walls shift from stark white to blood red, the whip holding menace is drenched, and the figure of Phil is coated. The bloodstained objects suddenly become liquid and dribble down to the ground.

The scene changes.

I'm in a field with a castle behind me. A large stone wall obscures the enemy from view but I know they are there. Their cruel laugh cuts the night like a knife. The walls collapse. Masked men in black robe with pointed hats. Spells fly around, jets of light striking their targets. A person falls next to me. I drop to my knees beside her, my legs coated in blood, a pool of blood that grows larger by the second. Colour drains from the girl's face. She looks about 12, huddled in this form, sobbing for her mother, but really I think she must be about 15 or 16. The years 11's at the secondary school nearby are just children. They laugh at crude jokes and play on childish computer games. They aren't fighting a war and dying in a bloody mess crying for their parents. A circle of blood on her shirt grows bigger, a stain by her abdomen causing this anguish. A masked man walks towards us. He utters an incantation, wand pointed at the injured girl. Reducto. Chunks of flesh fly around, there's an arm that soars at me. I scream. It's all I can do. My legs won't work and all I can do is scream. I want my Mum and Dad and I want out of this mess. But all I see is the same wand coming towards me and he mutters again. Avada Kedavra. Everything turns green.

The scene changes.

I'm standing in a blank white room surrounded by bodies. Young, old, male and female. All alike in death. Rows upon rows, lying on sheets with more sheets covering their bodies. I turn to the nearest body and pull back the cover. I don't know what I expected to see. A sunken socket where the eye should be is just bloody and gruesome. Finger marks on the throat followed by scratch marks across her cheeks. She is surrounded by a halo of the most gorgeous red hair I have ever seen. If she wasn't desecrated she would look like a wingless angel. I pull the sheet off further and I start sobbing hysterically. Her top is pulled up and there is just an empty hole where her stomach should be, her intestines spilling out like they've been hastily shoved back in. I'm choking on my tears. Everything goes black.

I'm back in my bedroom, still sobbing my heart out. My dad is stroking my hair and my mum sitting at the foot of the bed. That girl will never see her parents, that other girl's parents will see her disembowelled. Yet I still have my parents. Shushing noises come in my direction but I don't want to shush. I want to keep crying.

"Darling, it was only a nightmare, come on, everything will be alright." Someone had replaced my copy of "A Revised History of Magic" on my bedside table. "What's the matter honey, do you want to tell us?"

"No I bloody well don't want to tell you." I screeched at them. I just wanted them to leave. And my magic forced them out. They were pushed from the room by an invisible hand, the door slams and a click means it's locked. I sequester myself in the gap under my bed. I don't want anyone to find me.

DotDotDot

There is a knock at the door. Quietly at first but then it grows louder.

"GO AWAY!"

"Amber, please will you let me in?"

"NO!" The lock clicks and I see Professor Sprout standing there, wand raised.

"GET OUT!" I scream at her. How did she get in? Why is she here? She comes over and sits on the stool by my desk.

"Amber, your parents are worried. They sent me a letter using your owl saying you had a nightmare, but while you had that nightmare furniture started levitating, then when you woke up you used magic again to force them out of the room. Amber is everything alright."

"What right have my parents got to tell you anything about me?" I snarled menacingly.

"Your parents have a right to ask for help because they were so worried they thought that you would kill them with the rage you are in. They didn't understand why they were pushed from the room or why, when you locked the door, they couldn't get back in. From what I understand you have never used magic in front of them. I know you probably think it is odd for me to come to check you are alright, but your parents were practically hyperventilating." I crawled out of my hiding place and looked up at her, seeing the worry in her eyes. "They asked if I would help them with the matter was because they don't understand why you used magic, they don't understand magic. So Amber, are you okay?"

"I don't want to go to Hogwarts anymore; I don't want anything to do with the magical world." I said quietly. I stuck my bottom lip out and crossed my arms. "Why didn't you tell me," I asked accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me of the horrors and the torture, the war and the fighting? You made the world seem magical and fantasy. You told me you had a war, so what, you didn't tell me that there where children who were flogged and tortured, children who had their intestines pulled out when they should be playing computer games. I know nothing of this world and today I find this out, yet I'm supposed to be okay with it all? How am I to know that that world is safe when they tried to exterminate people like me less than a decade ago! It's not safe-" My ranting subsided as I broke off in tears and retreated back to my bed.

"What brought this on," She paused and glanced at the stack of books on my bedside table were you reading those history books you bought? I know it seems scary, the magical world, but believe me, there is no mass murderer, our crime rates are lower than muggle crime rates and children can just be children just like they are in this world. It's all over. I know it all seems frightening and I'm sure you aren't the first muggle born to have doubts, but there is nothing to be afraid of. Now, about what you did to your parents…"

"I'm not evil am I Professor? I didn't mean to do that. I'm not going to Azkaban, there are Dementors there, it was only an accident, and I only want to get rid of them!"

"Evil? Why on earth would you think you are evil? Like you said, it was an accident and now matter how badly our Government acted even then we did not send children to Azkaban for accidents. Nobody is angry at you; we just want to help you."

"But I am evil Professor. I can make people hurt when they hurt me." My head dropped to my hands. "The day before I met you, a girl was picking on me, and, and I set her on fire. I wanted to make her hurt. That makes me bad. Now my parents won't want me."

Sprout kneeled down in front of me and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Amber, you are not evil, you were upset, there's a difference. Your parents love you very much; they just don't understand how your magic works."

"I only wanted for them to leave me alone. I didn't want them going 'Are you ok Amber?' I wanted to be by myself." I sat in silence for a bit, realising how hurt my parents must have been, to lose their free will. "Can we go downstairs now?" I asked. Sprout led me to the living room without even asking why.

My parents sat on the settee looking rather frightened. I had made them like that. I had terrified them so much they were scared of their own daughter. I ran at them and gave them a massive hug, not wanting to let them go.

"Mummy, Daddy," I sobbed "I'm really sorry, I was just mad, I never meant to hurt you!"

"Mr and Mrs Darrow, everything is fine, Amber just had a bit of an accident with controlling her magic. I'll leave now. If it happens again, please, contact me if you need any help. Accidents do happen. I'll see myself out."

"Thank you very much Professor." My Mum offered.

"Don't worry about it. Thankfully The Wizarding World is much more focused on making muggleborns welcome in our society than it used to be, and that extends to the parents as well. I'm always available to help with that transition. Goodbye." When she had gone I curled up with my parents. I couldn't ever let my magic do that to them again. And that was why I had to go to Hogwarts.


	4. Accepting

**Chapter 4: Accepting **

**I must not tell lies and therefore cannot say I'm JK Rowling, Roald Dahl or Gene Roddenberry. Anything you recognise isn't mine. I must again thank my superb beta Lady Twi, who has worked diligently even through the summer.**

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The pen remained motionless. "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" I commanded louder, moving my wand in the prescribed movement. A swish and a flick. No luck. I read the paragraph in the book on this charm.

_This basic incantation is one of the first young witches and wizards learn due to the simplicity of the wand movement. Students must simply swish their wand and follow with a flick whilst carefully enunciating the words "Wingardium Leviosa" (Pronounced "_Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa). _Many attempts at this spell end in incineration of the intended object at first so one must be quite careful to distance themselves from the object._

I took a step away and repeated the charm. "Wingardium Leviosa" I _enunciated _carefully and confidently. The pen hovered and moved as I moved the wand. It was like something out of Matilda. How simply splendid.

I had a break for a bit to read "So You Want to Know More about Magic: A Muggle-Born's Guide to the Magical World. (Girls Edition)" It gave an impartial list of attributes that each house looks for. And yes, I was going to try to be impartial. I wasn't Gryffindor; I wasn't brave enough. Hufflepuff was out of the question; I had trouble making friends (Or at least muggle friends. We would have to wait to see the situation in the wizarding world), had the tact of a 5 year old and would make hurtful comments at times. I hoped for Ravenclaw. A house that focused on the acquirement of knowledge seemed perfect for me, but I thought it was a bit of a narrow category. And then I read the description for Slytherin. All I cared about was grades (Achievement-Orientated) so I could get a good job (I wanted to be Prime Minister, but I might change that; Ambitious); I used to search down the back of our sofas to find pennies so I could buy more sweets (Resourceful); and when I swallowed my first lost tooth, aged five, I wrote a (badly-spelt) letter to the Tooth Fairy emphasising how I was sorry I'd lost my tooth (To make them feel sympathetic) but was it possible I could still have my money? (Cunning or what? I only realise that looking back.) _Gulp. _I can't be a Slytherin! They hate people like me! I read that in one of my textbooks. I saw there was a _slim_ possibility I could end up with people who would want to kill me because of who my parents were, or weren't as the case may be. It would be no different to here. But hating them, doesn't that make me as bad as them. This book could be really out-of-date though. But I can't go. What if they beat me up or something? _Stop, Amber, STOP! You promised yourself not to judge them._ Yeah, that was before I thought I could become one of them. Woe betides anyone who tries to upset me. I may have to invest in some pranking equipment. I saw a shop named "Weasley Wizard Wheezes" that I may have to visit. (Do the Weasley's own Wizarding Britain or something?)

Deciding to do some more spells, to make it more likely I would end up in Ravenclaw, I flipped to the pages that told you enchantments for hair styles. Ponytail, could do that with a brush; Pigtails, same, and they are childish; Bun, I've had enough of ballet to last a lifetime. Here we go! French Plait. I need a bobble; the one in my hair should suffice. Right. Brush hair. Say the spell _Fanaticus Vieo _and touch the bobble which will vanish. Then point wand at hair and move in a figure of eight. Voila, un French Plait. I tried it out and it seemed easy enough, or at least it worked. I think I'm going to like this world after all.

DotDotDot

"Amber, come and set the table!" Mum called upstairs.

"Just finishing my page!" I responded. I quickly read to the end of the page which was discussing the "Reparo" charm, carefully put a bookmark in and placed it on the bedside table.

Downstairs my mum was fixing my favourite, homemade roast dinner. I figured she was feeling proud I was a witch because she hardly ever makes me this. I only ever get it if we have guests round (I.E Great Aunt Maud) or occasionally on Sundays. She says it's too much work otherwise. In particular, I love her roast potatoes which, after she par-boils the tatters, she seasons and tosses them in polenta before putting in them the oven. I got the cutlery and began placing them on the table.

"Oh Amber," She stated, "I'm going to miss you so much in September. It seems only yesterday you started reception. How did you grow up so quickly?"

"Don't worry Mum; I'm sure you'll find a way to spend the time. You could always indulge in a little retail therapy. Now you won't have to drag me around complaining that you spend so much time in the make-up section. Thank God for Glamour Charms!"

"Glamour Charms! What on earth are they?"

"Witches use them instead of make-up. Didn't you see there wasn't any Maybelline counters in Diagon alley?"

"Don't get cheeky with me young lady. But these Glamour Charms…"

"Forget it. They're way too advanced for me and once I start school I can use magic outside the grounds until I'm 17. The ministry could snap my wand." I saw the sharp glare she gave me. "Eh…oh, you think I'll get in trouble for using magic now! Don't worry, one of my books mentioned that the rules on magic don't really come in to play until you start Hogwarts. I can practice magic as much as I want right up until the Christmas holidays when I come home." She visibly relaxed after this explanation.

"Why 17 though? Why not 18?"

"In the Wizarding world you come of age at 17. You can vote, apparate (think, "Beam me up Scotty"), and perform magic outside school."

"I wonder why it's different to the muggle age of majority. Just small variations I guess. What magic can you do then?"

"I can French plait my hair and levitate things. Here, are you done plating up?" She nodded in affirmation. "Here we go. Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa." I guided the plates to the table and set them down gently, feeling quite amused at the look of amazement on my mother's face."

"That's…That's...Uh…"

"That's magic, Mum."

"Wicked." Excuse me; did my mother say "Wicked"? Amazing how things change isn't it. I just smiled and sat down to eat.

DotDotDot

The rest of my primary school career passed quickly for which I was grateful. There weren't anymore comments directed at my face but I had a hard time explaining why I wasn't going to my local secondary school like I had intended. Once I said that I'd been accepted to a private boarding school in Scotland for the gifted (Sprout fed me this line) they left me alone, accompanied by some mumbling that I wasn't gifted but a freak. Oh well, you can't please everyone.

I had a lot more fun once we were out for summer. I did more reading, went and got my shoes and school bag in the muggle world, along with some muggle stationary, and went back shopping in Diagon Alley armed with most of my savings from my piggy bank. This time I went into WWW. The building was large, garish and ostentatious. Painted in purple and orange it looked like an explosion in a paint factory. Or me in my new dress robes. It defiantly stood out amongst the conservative shop fronts of the competition. I could understand why Sprout didn't bring me in here. It didn't look like the place any teacher would frequent. The owner had been working in the shop that day. He was a lanky ginger man with 1 ear and it seemed half of him was missing (Though only his ear was). His magenta robes clashed horribly with his hair. Once I explained I was Muggle-Born and looking to invest in some basic defensive pranking equipment, he found me an armful of things and proceeded to tell me what they all did. There was the sweet that made someone's tongue long and purple. There were the edible dark marks (Great to try on Slytherins, seeing as they are all budding Death Eaters, he said. I quietly slipped it back. Wouldn't taking it and using it make me as bad as them because I was mocking them for their heritage?). Skiving Snackboxes for getting out of class, time to set up pranks and have hours of pleasure rather than intolerable boredom. Or to slip to unsuspecting victims. The trip wire, obvious; shocking shake, a buzzer that gave anyone who shook your hand a shock (It looked much better than any that you can get in the muggle world); extendable ears, for listening to conversations; U-No-Poo, some substance that made the victim constipated and was a cruel play on words; Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, into chuck into room where people were congregating then lock the door (I could have fun with that last tip). A whole load of pranks. What enjoyment that'll give. He he he!

We went on holiday to France for two weeks so I had a look for some Wizarding history in a guidebook I found on my second trip to Flourish and Blots. Apparently, L'Arc de Triomphe is built over the French Ministry of Magic (Where all magical government offices are) and was constructed to commemorate both the muggle and magical deaths leading to the formation of the First French Empire.

There was a French magical shopping centre as well. They had some of the most amazing clothes shops. The dresses were so beautiful and the dress robes were mind blowing. Oh and the toy shops were so adorable. I would have loved a walking, talking doll when I was little. Not one of these rubbish muggle inventions that could hobble along, no, these dolls could gracefully dance The Nutcracker. Hang on; I just said "muggle". Oh wizard God, I'm becoming magicalified.

For the rest of the holiday I started to notice little words creeping into my language. Wizardly words. I went shopping in the Bullring with my mum but the shops paled in comparison with Diagon Alley or Seine Centre du Magique. Riding a bike seemed lame compared to the idea of flying a broom. In muggle children's fiction novels the characters explored the local woods, in the Wizarding novels the characters had invisibility cloaks to explore Hogwarts with. Invisibility cloaks!

My parents on the other hand, they didn't seem to accept it all. I saw the worried looks in their eyes when I did some magic, I knew they were very reluctant to go to the wizard shopping centre in Paris. I was enthralled with a world they didn't understand, and they saw me slipping from them right in front of their eyes.

Home wasn't my world anymore.

DotDotDot

I spent the rest of the holidays reading my textbooks and memorising key notes from the first few chapters so I would have an advantage when I set of on my adventure to the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world supposedly. I also had some quality time with my parents because I wouldn't see them again until the Christmas holidays. My Dad took the most of the summer holidays off work because he wanted to be here for me. He had to go and help at a few events but mostly he was here. I appreciated that.

We went to visit my Granddad, who was in hospital so we couldn't tell him about my talents because there were other patients on the ward. He looked quite frail but was pleased to see me. We told him the same line that I told the people at primary school, that I was off to a private boarding school for the gifted in Scotland. He was dead chuffed that his grandchild was a genius. If only he knew the truth. I hated having to lie to him. I felt like I was betraying part of me, and that he deserved the truth.

The hardest part was having to decide which of my cuddly toys and treasured books to leave at home. Muggle things may not be as amazing or grand as Wizarding things but they were comforting and I was just going to have to find a balance between my upbringing and my destiny.

So on Friday 31st August my plain, sturdy brown trunk with my initials stamped on it stood full to the brim containing all my things I was taking, minus Carys and her cage, in the corner of my room. My room which was exceptionally tidy! I put my hand to my forehead to check I was well but it was no use - if I was unwell my hand would be the same temperature as my head. Ravenclaw logic coming out there Amber, well done. I had left out a nice outfit to put on after my shower because we were going out and a pair of pyjamas that I would wear tonight then pack into my hand luggage so I had some for the first night without having to rummage through my trunk to find a pair. The outfit I was wearing now was going to be packed in the morning (My Dad was washing it tonight) into my hand luggage so I had something to wear on Sunday whilst unpacking. I would re-wear my nice outfit for the journey and change into my robes on the train when we were almost there.

My parents and I went out to a nice, cosy restaurant, not far from where we lived, that night to celebrate me going to Hogwarts. I think they were still apprehensive about magic, but to give them credit they tried their hardest not to let it show. I love my parents, I really do, but we are already so different that I can't see us being one of these families who have to communicate every day. I can go for days holed up in my room, only seeing them at meals.

"Darling, you have to write to us regularly, ok. Every day?"

"Dad," I whined, "I'm not going to write to you every day like some little child. You'll get maximum 2 letters a week. I'll be too busy."

"I don't see why you can't just text us." He was on the verge of pouting. It is very funny to watch dad pout like a small kid.

"Electronics don't work there, I told you."

Mum interrupted our debate. "Will you two stop arguing? Honestly!"

"We're not arguing, we are in disagreement." I countered.

"It's the same thing missy. Let's talk about something else…I know, I haven't told you about this new job I've applied for…"

We got home at around 8pm and I said goodnight and went to my room. I filled up Carys' water dish and food bowl then went to brush my teeth. I got changed into my pj's and folded up my clothes, grabbed my book and read for an hour about Hogwarts and the Hogwarts Express and Platform 9 ¾. At 9 I put the book down, turned off my lamp and settled down to sleep under my blue gingham quilt.

I don't think so much as me being ready for the Wizarding world as them being ready for me! Or, at least, I hoped that would be true.

**How I described making the roast potatoes is actually how my Mum makes them and they are fantastic. Better than "Aunt Bessies" any day. Here is to you Mum! (Not that you read this anyway)**


	5. Platform 9 34

**Chapter 5: Platform 9 ¾ **

**No, I'm not blonde, married to a man named Neil or born on the 31st July. I will say it again, I'm not JK Rowling nor do I own the rights to anything you recognise. That includes Doug Adams' Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, which belongs to his estate. I also don't own Cadburys, which is owned by Kraft (Damn them!). Well I do have a bar in my desk, does that count? My dear beta, Lady Twi has been working her socks off this summer, so epharisto as they say in Greece.**

Sunlight was streaming through the gap in my navy blue curtains and making a puppet show out of shadows against the pale blue walls. The clock was ticking away almost silently on my bedside table and Carys was asleep in her cage, safely stowed away for the journey. She was softly hooting, like a human might snore. I had been awake to see sunrise, at approximately quarter past 6. I had sat on the window seat behind those curtains for the past hour after a night of tossing and turning, and it was now about 7. My bedroom was at the front of the house and when you looked across the road you could see the park, with its dewy grass, birds hooting and early morning dog walkers. The houses along the road had all the trappings of a middle class muggle suburb, with its neatly mown front gardens and waist height brick walls. Average cars sat on tarmac drives gleaming in the suns rays. Polished metal door knockers that were mainly for decoration hung on the doors, which were painted in dull colours. Every now and then you may find a nondescript lawn ornament. When I next saw this view there would be quite a few because the number always increased around Christmas, always fat jolly men with white beards in red suits accompanied by reindeer and sleighs sometimes with elves singing happy tunes that make you want to vomit at the sweetness. It was worse than a sweet shop. Some _incredibly _amusing people decide to have Father Christmas dummies that are on ladders on their chimneys that make old dears ring the police because they think someone is trying to break into the house next door. Constable Winters is getting quite fed up.

In the next room I could hear my parents alarm go off and they began to stir. It set Carys off and she began hooting. With that infernal racket she could wake up the whole street. I climbed out from behind the curtains and went to pet her so she'd calm down. I gave her an owl treat out of the many I'd set aside for the journey. It would be wrong to say that nervousness was creeping over me, because, in fact, it had already consumed me. I would deny it but I had my stuffed cat, Lucy, who I'd had since my first day of primary school, in my rucksack. I thought it appropriate to have her with me when I started this new school. Not that she brought me much luck.

I hauled my trunk down with a little help from my Dad then raced back up to get Carys and her cage, along with my day bag. When I got back down my trunk was already in the car and mum was cooking nice pancakes like she does on Pancake Day with the batter she made last night. I bolted them down, drenched in honey. Yum! Just the way I like them. I love Mum's pancakes.

At 7.45 we climbed into the car with Carys in tow. It takes roughly 2.5 hours to reach London from Birmingham according to AA Route Planner but we allowed some time for traffic because London is mayhem and we would hit Greater London at peak commuter time. When the car started Carys began hooting again and the car sounded like the whole of Magical Menagerie was in here. I hoped she'd quieten or she'd distract my Dad and could cause him to crash. The journey was uneventful and Carys did quieten down and had a nap. I was reaching the end of Hogwarts: A History for the second time and chewed some gum so I wouldn't get a headache from reading. When we reached the M25, where we got off the motorway and headed into London there was a noticeable increase in traffic but it was flowing so we made good time. We got to Kings Cross at about 10.25 and we loaded up my things onto a trolley. I had a mooch around WHSmiths for 10 minutes and bought a book which was Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy but a compilation of all five of the trilogy of five. (The book publishing companies called a trilogy when the 3rd book was released, but 2 more were published before his death, and he was going to write more). We had been told by Sprout that to reach platform 9 ¾ you had to run at pillar 3 between platforms 9 and 10 on the side where the bridge is behind you. I was, to say it lightly, a little dubious, but considering all I had seen about magic I could believe it. She'd told us to lean causally against the barrier and just step through which we did. The world went black for a second then we emerged onto the platform which was shrouded in smoke that was billowing from a funnel at the front of a scarlet train.

The Hogwarts Express.

The platform was practically empty, only a few older students milling around all in their uniform and wearing badges on the lapel of their robes. My Dad and I climbed onto the train with my trunk and Carys to find a compartment to stow my things. We found one close to the front that seemed nice. Not only that but it was one of the carriages that had the sign "First years" on. We put my stuff on the luggage rack. As we came out, a student with one of the badges on, which was blue, matching the trimming on her robes, came by and stopped to talk to us.

"So, you're a firstie, are you?"

"Why else would I put my stuff in a firstie compartment?" Mustn't appear weak, now matter what the circumstances. Not now, my first introduction to Hogwarts.

"I like you kid, you've got character. Not particularly whinny like most first years. I'm Tammy Warren, 6th year prefect, Ravenclaw. Do you need any help?"

"Nah, me and my Dad got it covered, I think. Thanks for the offer though. Amber Darrow, first year, no house obviously. This is my Dad, Steven Darrow."

"Nice to meet the both of you. Amber, if you need any help, someone will be in the prefect compartment next door. Good day" and she went in the next door.

I went back onto the platform to say goodbye to my parents. A few more people turned up and by about quarter to the hour the platform had a large number of people on. I was starting to tear up because I wouldn't see my parents before Christmas. I hugged both of them then my mum said that I'd better get on the train or I'd lose my seat. I gave them both a teary kiss then hopped onto the train. I found my compartment again and took the seat nearest to the window. The compartment was still empty but I knew some other 1st year compartments had some people in. I heard a whistle go from the platform and I leapt to the window, stuck my head out and waved. I could see my parents getting smaller and smaller before they disappeared. A pair of little children chased the train as fast as they could but they couldn't go past the end of the platform so they stood there and waved to whatever relatives were onboard be that siblings, cousins or possibly just family friends. There was a knock on the door and a little girl who hid amongst her long blonde hair came in dragging her trunk.

"…C…c…can…n I…I sit he…ere?" She stuttered "S…some loud…d boys two d…doors down k…kicked me…e out."

"Of course, come in. I'm Amber Darrow. Pleasure to meet you." I extended my hand.

"C…C…Claire A…Appleby" She stumbled and shook my outstretched hand.

"Are you ok? You seem a bit shaken."

"I…I…I'll b…b…be f…fine in a m…m….minute w…when I c…calm down."

"Would you like some water?" I asked politely.

"P…p…please." I handed her the massive bottle I filled this morning. "T…thank you." She sipped some water and took some deep breaths.

"Better?"

"Much. Thanks. Those boys were really horrid. They ganged up on me and started pushing me around. I know who they are. Dominic Derrick and his pal Burdock Bole. Mum always complained about their dads, said they were always fouling the opponents on the field."

"I guess you're talking about Quidditch, but I'm muggleborn so I don't know the names."

"Oh wow, so when did you learn about magic?"

"June. Everything seems amazing. I'm still in awe."

"Wait 'til you see Hogwarts. Mum said that even the purebloods are in wonder."

Claire and I chatted for the rest of the journey. When the sweet trolley came round she introduced me to the wonders of magic sweets. My favourite is the chocolate frogs, but they're more sugary and like American candy so it doesn't top Cadburys. In return, I introduced her to the wonder that is Cadburys Dairy Milk. I actually shared one precious bar, but it seemed a fair trade off. She found it amazing muggles could make something that was so nice but she said Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, the town by Hogwarts, made the best chocolate ever. As a Birmingham girl I found this hard to believe, but I had to concede as I had no Honeydukes to compare it to.

"I heard that muggles go to school from age 4. Is this true?"

"Yeah, it's compulsory. In most places until you are 11 you attend Primary school, then 11-16 is Secondary school, 16-18 is Sixth form or college, then 18+ is University or college."

"Wow, you have a really complicated system. I think I would have liked to have gone to primary school though. You wouldn't ever be lonely." She said this so softly I barely heard it. But she was wrong. It was possible to be lonely. I was lonely every day since it started at that school.

"No, Claire," I whispered, "You can be standing in a river, but dying of thirst." I must have been loud enough for her to hear because she whispered in return:

"Magic isn't all it's cracked up to be either, Amber." She closed her eyes, as if trying to shake off a memory, a look I recognised because it was one I had pulled myself many times.

DotDotDot

When the sky grew dim outside the train the lamps came on. A prefect stopped by to tell us we should get changed. My guide warned Hogwarts was quite cold so I put a jumper on over my normal clothes underneath the robe. The robe was like a floor length, full sleeve dress that was quite baggy. Where the trimmings of colour on the older students robes were ours were grey and instead of a house badge it was the school badge. I put my school shoes on as well and re-brushed my hair.

A voice came over an invisible magical microphone that made Claire jump. **"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."**

Claire began holding my arm like I was a life preserver and I have to admit I was nervous too. I didn't find any reference to the sorting process in the books, only that it was traditionally kept secret. I overheard some boy telling his younger brother it was painful, but I think he was winding him up. Or, at least I hoped so. The train lurched to a stop and everyone started milling in the corridor as the prefects opened the doors. I said bye to Carys, and Claire and I braved the crowd.

Outside it was a starry night and all was calm. A raging thunder storm would have been more appropriate for my terrified thoughts. An enormous man holding a lantern was standing over to one side yelling **"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"** That must be Professor Hagrid, whom was mentioned on several occasions in my books.

I motioned for Claire to come with me and we went over to the Professor. Everyone else followed our lead, obviously not having the guts to go first. There were probably around 40 of us so it must have been a low average year. We were led down a slippery path through some trees that could be seen thanks to the clear, bright moon, but were making shadows that were quite frightening. I could taste salt in the air so I assumed we were coming to a body of water. My assumption was proved right when we reached a lake. Across the lake was the most magnificent building I'd seen in my life. There was a long row of windows that were illuminated by candles floating in the air inside. There were 5 tables that were starting to fill up with students and professors. Hagrid drew our attention back to the lake. There were little jetties that had boats tied on them.

"**No more'n four to a boat" **

Claire and I quickly got into a boat and were joined by a pair of twins, who introduced themselves as Poppy and Philip Cordwood, and then didn't say a word to us for the rest of the trip. Once we'd all found a boat Hagrid settled down in one all by himself.

"Everyone in? Good. FORWARD!" commanded Hagrid.

The boats glided across the lake causing little ripples on the surface. The lake was midnight blue, reflecting the sky, with a huge glowing moon and some stars dancing on the water. The exclamations of amazement came from all around thanks to the view as we proceeded towards the huge, slightly foreboding castle.

"**Head's down!" **We were warned as we reached an archway in the cliff. We didn't actually need to follow that advice as we're so short. There was an underground harbour of some kind where the boats pulled up and we were directed to get out. Hagrid led us up a passage way and across the grounds until we reached the castle, which looked even more gothic as the moon had gone behind some clouds. He raised his hand and rapped on the door three times with his giant fist.

**Some dialogue (highlighted in bold) taken from pg 83 (British Edition circa 1998) chapter six of Philosopher's Stone.**


	6. Choices

**Chapter 6: Choices**

**As much as I wish to claim the Harry Potter series as my own work, it is JK Rowling's. I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I also don't own the Adams Family, or Clarks shoe shop. The Sorting Hat's song lyrics are some of my own composition and some by Riddle TM, from their song "The Sorting Hat" over which I claim no right and I'm making no profit.**

The door creaked open like in horror films and I expected Cousin It to answer the door or something. Instead we were greeted by Professor Sprout's wide smile. 

"Come in my dears, it's freezing tonight. Thanks Hagrid, see you in a minute."

Hagrid disappeared from behind us and Sprout ushered us inside. We were led to an ante-chamber of sorts. We passed a huge set of doors, that I assumed was the hall, which had voices issuing out of the cracks. They were rather loud and had me quaking in my Clarks, properly fitted, shoes. Sprout walked to the front to give a speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts my dears, it's a pleasure to greet you on what will hopefully be the start of 7 amazing years. I'm Professor Sprout, Herbology teacher, Deputy Head, and head of Hufflepuff House. Here at Hogwarts we operate a house system. There are four houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Each house has its own qualities that it respects in its members and each has produced notable witches and wizards. I hope each and everyone one of you will be a credit to your house. Your house will be like your family here at Hogwarts. You will be in house dormitories, eat at house tables and share classes with house members in your year. During the year you can earn or lose points, and at the End-Of-Year feast the house cup is awarded to the house with the most points. In a few moments we will enter the Great Hall but before you take your seats you will be sorted into your houses. I'll be back in a moment."

Sprout left the room and the muttering started. I started a discussion with Claire about what happened at the sorting ceremony. A slightly plump boy turned around with a look of surprise:

"You actually mean your parents didn't bother to tell you all about it!"

I held my head up high "I'm a muggle-born, so no, my parents did not tell me about "it" because they do not know either."

He turned back to his pose muttering "I should have guessed, filthy Mudblood."

Claire piped up, "Well I should never expected anything better of a kid aiming for Slytherin." I just stared at her, willing her to shut up. The boy didn't respond. I was just grateful no-one else heard this little exchange.

Sprout returned with a hat and a stool, and accompanied us to the doors of the Great Hall. They opened and we stepped into the most magnificent room I've ever seen. Stone walls were decorated with carvings; hangings with the school crest on hung from the ceiling; gold plates graced the wooden tables where students sat. The most amazing feature of all was the ceiling itself. It was, well it looked like there was no ceiling, but was the night sky with thousands of candles floating in it. It was a clear night so it was midnight blue dotted with shining yellow orbs, no bigger than a pin-head. I'd read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but I wasn't prepared for this spectacle. I was in awe, and judging by the looks on my peers faces, they were too.

The stool was placed on the raised platform at the front, and everyone stopped to watch it, which was strange. I quickly found out why; the hat sung:

Hogwarts school still standing tall,

This castle's strength will never fall,

My dear friends, today you stand,

In the greatest Wizarding school in the land.

One thousand years ago this story starts,

There were four sorcerers,

With strong and wise hearts,

Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin from fen.

They had a dream to teach all that they knew,

Witches and Wizards came far and did grew,

'Til the castle stood tall,

By the shores of a lake,

And a thousand years later,

The magic remains.

Salazar Slytherin wanted those of shrewd mind

Those who are cunning do well with his kind

Brave Godric Gryffindor, favoured the strong,

Those who had courage and knew right from wrong,

And Rowena Ravenclaw taught only the best,

So friendly ol' Helga, she took all the rest.

So now I sort you all,

In this very hallowed hall

But I fear to quarter may be wrong,

Though it has been tradition long,

They say to me:

"Old Hogwarts Sorting Hat sing me a song,

Speak in my head tell me where I belong",

But when things look bad,

And there's nowhere to run,

Please, unite all the houses,

So you fight as one.

The hall erupted into clapping. It quietened down after a minute and the sorting began:

"When I call your name, please come and sit on the stool. I will place the hat on your head and it will tell you where you belong." A hat can decide? Well it can sing, so why not think.

"Appleby, Claire"

Claire walked up to the stool and Sprout placed the hat on her head. It sat there for about a minute before it yelled "Hufflepuff" She smiled at me as she took her seat. Burdock Bole, the lad who made scathing remarks about my heritage, and picked on Claire, became a Slytherin a second after the hat was placed on his head. "Butterton, Amy" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and I saw Tammy Warren congratulating her. The Cordwood twins both became Gryffindors, and didn't say much to anyone at the table.

"Darrow, Amber"

I crossed my fingers and made my way up. I reminded myself I wasn't walking to my death, so I shouldn't be that scared, it was stupid. I sat on the stool which was hard and slightly rickety. The hat was placed on my head and it came down almost to over my eyes. I jumped when I heard a voice inside my head.

"Well, well, well. I haven't met anyone quite like you in many a year. You're smart. Very smart. You've the courage to do what's right, even if you don't realise it. You are braver than you think young Amber. But what's this? Ambition, cunning, all the making of a Slytherin…"

"Please, not Slytherin! They want me dead!"

"They aren't all sympathisers with the old ways. I will admit that there hasn't been a muggleborn Slytherin in about 30 years but I can see great things that you're going to do. You are going to achieve things that will change people's lives. It's going to be hard, you know, but will you try?"

"Why can't I be a Ravenclaw? I am a scholar, not a schemer."

"Because my dear child, as a great man once said 'If the time comes to choose between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.' I know you know of the war. I know you know what happened and the atrocities caused. If by joining Slytherin House you can stop some of the discrimination of muggle-borns, then it will have all been for the Greater Good. And, Amber that is a cause worth fighting for."

"But tell me why not Ravenclaw…"

"Because, child, Ravenclaws, bless them, for all their knowledge, they are not the kindest people to those who do not conform. While you are most certainly a person with all the criteria for that house, I can see a desire to fit in. While you will certainly struggle at first, you have more chance in the long run of being yourself and having friends in Slytherin. Furthermore, a muggle-born in Slytherin will also do wonders for relationships with the other houses. And besides, you have more of a Slytherin attitude. If you want proof, tell me what you have in your trunk, besides all the necessary things. I know of your defence kit. To protect yourself is a very Slytherin way of thinking. I also know of that list of examples of you showing the attributes you compiled in the summer."

I nodded, accepting what it was going to do,

"SLYTHERIN!"

Burdock Bole and his mates had their jaws open so wide that you could fit a whole roast chicken in. No-one else in the hall clapped, but the Slytherins did, even though it was mildly unenthusiastic. Claire looked at me sympathetically. I stood up, straightened my robes, handed the hat back and walked with my head held high to the Slytherin table; serpent badge now shining from my chest, where the robes had changed the minute the hat proclaimed the words. I took a seat and accepted congratulations from a few prefects. They were relatively friendly, the prefects. Bole looked like he wanted to make a scene, but a look from a round, portly gentleman, who easily be Father Christmas if he had a white beard, quelled that almost immediately. Even from this distance you could see Bole had the rounded fists of anger, the narrowed eyes of fury and the rounded arms of someone who wanted to cause a fight.

The sorting continued without anymore disruption. Dominic Derrick, Bole's partner in crime joined us almost as soon as the sorting recommenced. "Eastbourne, Georgia" was sorted into Slytherin and sat next to me. She had her head held high, with a pointy nose and was very snobby. I guessed she came from an old pure-blood family because everyone clapped harder than they did for me, and she had a lot more handshakes. "Hall, Ruth" became the next Hufflepuff and started talking to Claire, who answered animatedly, clearly enjoying herself. The next Slytherin was a boy called "Knotgrass, Jacob" who was one of Derrick and Bole's friends and he stared daggers at me. Now I remember. He was the one we met in Diagon Alley. I must remember to avoid him. We were joined by "Lore, Rebecca"; "Malden, Kathryn"; "Nott, Lucas"; "Ramsey, Scarlett"; and "Zabini, Adriano". Someone inquired whether the latter was related to someone called "Blaise", to which he responded that the person in question is his half-brother. "Nott, Lucas" was asked whether there was any relation between him and a guy called "Theodore", who is his uncle. "Zaid, Elisha", a Gryffindor, was the last person sorted and Sprout picked up the stool and hat, and then walked out of the hall. She came back in through a side door shortly after. The Headmistress stood up to make a speech.

"Welcome to the start of another school year. I'm sure you are all hungry so I will save my full speech until after the feast." She clapped three times and food appeared on the table like magic (I reminded myself that it was magic) "Enjoy." And she sat down and began conversation with a tall professor with long black hair who was sitting next to her.

I was surprised, to say the least, when the food appeared, but I took it in my stride and started on my dinner. I had a roast dinner, and a few other things, but I thought it didn't measure up to my mum's cooking. I began a discussion with Kathryn Malden about what we were looking forward to. She said she was desperate to try for the Quidditch team but first years never make the team. Personally, I think she may have been a bit lonely. She told me that Georgia and Rebecca were best friends, while Scarlett and Adriano were cousins, albeit only second cousins. I was surprised we were able to hold this conversation interrupted, but it appeared that Derrick and Bole, along with their mate Nott, were too busy pigging out on the spread in front of them to pay attention to a - what was it they called me again? – mudblood like me, and Kathryn hadn't noted their displeasure towards my sorting. After a while the food disappeared, only to be replaced by a towering gateau, piles of profiteroles, jugs of chocolate sauce, and blocks of ice-cream. It was pure heaven, speaking as a chocoholic and someone with a sweet tooth. I ate my way through as many things with chocolate on as possible. When we could all eat no more the dishes vanished again, and the Headmistress stood up and said,

"Well, now that we've all eaten, I'll begin my speech. For those of you who don't know my name is Professor McGonagall. I would like to welcome the returning students back to school, and extend a warm welcome to our new students in first year. I would just like to recap a few rules. The Whomping Willow is out-of-bounds for a reason – it's dangerous. Please do not try and pull some stupid prank around it, as I assure you the injuries won't be as bad as the detentions. The Forbidden Forest is just that – Forbidden. Please don't enter it without a teacher. Please don't use spells in the corridors, and at no point is it acceptable to use a spell on anther student without their permission. Mr. Filch asks me to remind you that the list of banned objects, which now contains 572 items, can be found on the door of his office. The list has been updated to include new Weasley products Hell-Boy Hot Sweets, Jumping Jellyfish Shockers and Fliptastic Fanged Foams. Please do not get caught with these in your possession." She inserted a quick grin here. "Now, I'm sure you're all tired so will the prefects escort everyone back to their houses. Goodnight."

A tall boy with mouse brown hair stood up at the Slytherin table and called "First years, over here." We walked over; all of us slightly nervous, though some hid it better than others. He introduced himself as Gregory Sheehan and his fellow fifth year prefect as Jasmine Oakley. He told us they were going to show us the quickest way to the common room and then Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin, would be holding a house meeting. We were led out of the hall and down a flight of steps. I passed Claire and gave her a wave. She waved back but another Hufflepuff told her to stop it, so she shrugged her shoulders and continued on. The steps went down into the dungeons and it was colder down here so I was glad I wore the extra layers. We stopped at a dead end, but Sheehan said "Ambition" and the wall slid back to reveal the common room entrance.

"Welcome, to your new home."


	7. Belonging

**Chapter 7: Belonging**

**I'm getting bored of this. I own nothing you recognise here and I am not making any profit.** **I don't own U2 Sunday Bloody Sunday, which I quoted the lyrics from. I know it's been a long time, but I have my ballet exam a week on sunday and 3 lessons a week and A-Levels don't leave much time to write.**

The levels of green were quite overbearing and it was still cold, though warmer than the corridor. It was rather grand and not particularly welcoming. The ceiling was low, and the dark cupboards imposing. The couches were leather, black and green, and didn't look that comfy. I was tired and wanted to get to bed but I blinked my eyes, trying to stay awake for a while. Jasmine Oakley led us to the girls' dorms, which were slightly cosier. It also had a low ceiling and silver hooks gleaming on the left side of the door. The beds were made of the same dark wood as the common room cupboards and the bedding was white and green. My bed was the first on the right of the door, as you came in. I had a desk with a chair, a chest of drawers and a mirror as well.

We went back downstairs where the portly looking man was standing. We firsties were directed to sit at the front on the floor. The older students were lounging around on furniture and the oldest had commandeered the sofas. There was obviously a hierarchy in this house. They all were quiet so we followed their lead.

"Welcome to a new school year. I'm sure this will be a good year for Slytherin and I hope you will do us all proud. Many of my former students who went on to do great things came from Slytherin. I want all of you to be able to make me proud. After all, you are Slytherins.

"I wish to remind you that the password changes fortnightly, so please check it or you will be stuck in the corridor until someone else turns up. I wish to stress the importance of house loyalty. I don't want anyone sent to me because of a fight with another member of Slytherin. I don't want you to get caught fighting with anyone actually, but I know the other houses like to hex you, so self-defence is acceptable, though I mean ONLY defence is allowed. I'm talking to you, Mr. West." He glared at an older boy, who looked sheepish. "I really don't understand why you can't just get on with the other houses. They don't have problems between them.

"I understand that settling in is hard, and I am always here if there is a problem, and I'll try and help, though I am a busy teacher so please don't distract me if it is something you can deal with yourselves." I thought he was more like the teachers from primary school, all about 'presenting a united front' than the helpful attitude he claimed to have. I noted the operative word 'try'. "Now does anyone have any questions? No? Then I think it's high time you all went to bed. Goodnight." And with that he left the room.

"Right, now old Sluggie has gone, we can start. Welcome, midgets, to the proud house of Salazar Slytherin. Introduce yourselves." This was Sheehan talking.

"Georgia Eastbourne. If I have to tell you who my family is, you're obviously a mudblood."

"Kathryn Malden, same, and I want a space on the Quidditch team, so captain beware."

They went on until they reached me.

"Amber Louise Darrow. I'm from Birmingham."

There was a silence, a drawn breath. Then, an arrogant, malicious voice came out of Sheehan's mouth, so very different to how it was only moments ago. "I didn't realise at the sorting," He began, staring at his curled fingertips, "But I've never heard the name Darrow before." His posture changed fluidly to become all defensive, forcing me to stumble backwards as he walked closer and closer "So what do we have here, a mudblood, or someone whose mother was such a slut that she couldn't get a shag off a wizard that she resorted to some filthy muggle." I refused to answer. "Oi, West, I think we have one tough cookie here, fancy teaching her a lesson?" West nodded. "So I repeat again, what blood are you?"

Self preservation rules again. I might as well try to limit the damage before they beat the answer out of me. I scream from inside myself, but it probably only came out normally "I'm a muggleborn and proud!" There were gasps from around the room.

"WHAT! No, this can't be happening. There is no way we are letting a mudblood in this house! Out! Now! You are disgracing the name Salazar."

"No, the Sorting Hat put me here, so I'm staying." Courage flowed through me. I was fed up of taking things lying down. Maybe the sorting hat was right, that I could be braver than I first though. That I could stand up for myself. No-one here knew my pressure points.

"You'll pay for that! West, I think she needs that lesson!"

"We're a school; it's what we do best." The two boys started advancing on me, wands drawn, while the other students pinned me in, preventing me from escaping. The blows came thick and fast, though they weren't thrown by the boys but were, in fact, a barrage of spells that replicated the brute strength of a punch. I couldn't feel anything but pain. A few girls chucked in some more creative spells, which only added to the agony. I was praying to God they would stop. It hurt so much. I mustn't scream, don't scream. That would make me weak. Would the torture never end? OW OW OW… Finally, face pushed into the floor, eyes streaming with tears, I heard some soft spoken words, not to me, but on of my abusers:

"Leave her now, or they'll be comments tomorrow."

"If you insist, but I want a snog."

"Of course, you were going to get one anyway m'dear. You wouldn't have got one though if you had got mudblood all over your hands."

West bent down by my ear and whispered: "You got lucky this time mudblood, you must be so glad Harriet stopped us or you would be in the hospital wing right now. Next time I'll hit you in places that don't show."

I lay there in my suffering, hoping to Merlin they would all just leave me. Someone's hand held mine. It was delicate; a female's.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I'm Scarlett Ramsey, would you like a hand, they gave you quite a bad beating."

"T…t…hanks." I was starting to sound like Claire from earlier. Was it only 6 hours ago, it seemed like eternity.

"No problem. Just so you know, I don't think they liked you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Eh?"

"Muggle fictional detective. Doesn't matter, just a phrase."

"That's cool; let's get up to bed, seeing as we have to unpack tomorrow." Scarlett helped me limp up the stairs to our dorm and led me over to my bed. The others gave me a few dirty looks, but left me alone. I climbed on to my bed and grabbed my bag, said goodnight to Scarlett and pulled the curtains shut and added privacy spell I read about called a silencing charm. After getting my pyjamas on I dived under the green, harsh colours, and cried myself to sleep like I had so many times before.

DotDotDot

I woke up the next morning to find my hair covered in slime. Vile. I opened the curtains and hopped down from the bed, which was too high for me to touch the floor. On my bedside table I found my alarm clock smashed to pieces and a note saying _"I hope you enjoyed your lie-in Mudblood!" _I grabbed my things from my bag and ran into the bathroom sobbing again. Bloody leaking hosepipe. I found a watch and groaned when I realised I had slept through breakfast. I was regretting my agreement with the hat last night. Deciding there was nothing else I could do at present I put the shower on and enjoyed 15 minutes with only my thoughts. I enjoyed the sensation of water running over me and the feeling of cleanliness. I tipped my head back and massaged shampoo into my scalp, the slow circular movements of my fingers soothing the headache that had sprung from crying. I missed home. I wanted my Mummy and Daddy and I wanted my nice warm bed, to be curled up with Lucy, with my special hot chocolate, with marshmallow fluff on top like you can buy in Selfridges in the Bullring. Even at school in Birmingham I was never beaten up, only verbally abused. I wanted to get on the train right now and go home. Even at primary school you would never have gotten away with that, and you would have been given marching orders immediately. I sat on my bed, towelling my hair off when the others came back from breakfast. Georgia, Kathryn and Rebecca held their noses theatrically when they saw me.

"Georgia, Becky, I can smell something foul in here."

"Why so do I, the wretched house elves must be doing something wrong."

"Let us leave. We mustn't spend time here if the stench has got so bad." They turned their heads in unison and strutted out.

Scarlett came to sit next to me, and she put her arm round me and gave me a squeeze. "I would ask them not to but I value my own head a bit more. Besides, it wouldn't do anything. I would rather show my support than speak it. I'm sorry I couldn't stop them this morning. It was cruel. Would you like me to repair your clock?"

"Yes please." I replied in a very small voice, one that might belong to someone who was terrified of crowds and was currently situated in a pack of people.

"Reparo." Came a clear, confident voice. The clock picked itself up one by one, fixing it like it had never been broken. "If you want somewhere quiet to go and hide, my Mother always recommended the top of the owlery. You go over the clock tower bridge and you can't miss it. The clock tower can be accessed by the portrait of Damara Dodderidge on the first floor, on the left hand side. I'll show you. My parents taught me my way round Hogwarts aged 7 through maps."

I allowed myself to be led up the stairs to said portrait of a woman in old fashioned clothing, sleeping in her frame.

"Miss Dodderidge. MISS DODDERIDGE!"

"What? So hungry…What do you want?"

"Miss Dodderidge this is Amber, a first year just like me who is a bit upset. I recommended that she could go to the owlery if she wanted peace and quiet, but she doesn't know her way round yet. The easiest way for her to get there is through your portrait. Would you be kind enough to grant her passage?"

"Well…I suppose I could. Come on then dear. At the other end you just go straight through the big door to the left of my portrait. It's right across the courtyard, over the bridge and it's the path to the right of the stone circle." I willingly allowed the passage to swallow me up. Blackness was better than life. Scarlett waved at me and I wondered if this was a prank, but at the other end a door was opening and flooding the corridor with light. I stepped out, trying to work out my bearings. I could hear the friendly voice in my head "Big door on left, across courtyard." There were 3 doors and I started to panic. "Big door" One of them was much, much larger than the other two. That must be it. It was heavy, but some spell must have been cast because it was a tenth of the weight I expected. Daylight blinded me, so I stepped gingerly out further, allowing my eyes to accommodate. I smiled when I could finally see properly. The courtyard was pretty. Stone brickwork made up archways which lead to a walkway. Flowers grew all around and in one corner was a pear tree. In the centre was a waterfall cascading from a gold logo atop a black plinth. Moving closer I could see the letters DA in the logo, and rows upon rows of names were carved into the plinth. "Stewart Abercrombie, Eleanor Branstone…" These were the names of the fallen. The students a few years older than me who gave their lives to save us all. _To save me. _"This many lost, but tell me who has won" to quote U2. Was it really a fitting gesture to have their names carved in lifeless stone, no emotion or expression? They had lived, they loved and were loved. They danced to music and read books. I could recite each and every one of their names, and those of the survivors. What I didn't know was who they were. Were they alone, had parents who loved them, had one parent, or only siblings? What were their favourite colours? Where did they come from? Did they have a boyfriend or girlfriend? What did they feel under the cruciatus? I wished I could be as strong as them, but deep down I knew I was weak. I couldn't cope with a little slime and they suffered cruciatus curses, starvation and beatings. I don't know what the cruciatus really felt like. I've never truly experienced it. My nightmare doesn't count, I see that now. Now that I have truly felt magically induced pain. Pain that won't stop until the curse is ended, even if the curses they were using weren't even a tenth as bad as a cruciatus.

I never did make it to the owlery, but instead I curled up in the farthest corner of the walkway and sobbed for the life I had so long dreamed of. I cried that I had people that loved me, but were so far away. I sobbed for the eternal darkness I wished could consume me.


	8. Sticks and Stones

**Chapter 8: Sticks and Stones**

**See declaration from first chapter. I know it's been a long time since my last update. Sorry!**

_I ran along the corridors, terrified and lost. It was an awfully large castle. I turned a corner and I faced a dead end. Damn! I turned back round, but found my path blocked again. And on the left, and the right. I started hammering on the walls, pleading to be let out. Faces appeared on the wall, and they began chanting "Disgrace…Should be put down…Worthless" I screamed to high heaven._ I woke with a start. Surrounded by a sea of green, I slowly got my bearings. I was in my bed, in the Slytherin girls' first year dormitory, in the Slytherin Dungeons. My screaming seemed to have caused a bit of ruckus, because I could hear the other girls stirring, and someone called over: "Shut it Mudblood, we have classes in the morning!" I called back in a small voice "Sorry!" and turned back over. The clock read 6:00. I decided to stay awake, and not let them get to me before I woke up. Grabbing my "Magical Theory", I curled up under the covers and began getting ahead with my work.

DotDotDot

Nobody would sit by me in the Great Hall. I ended up on the far end by the teachers' table. I silently ate my cornflakes, liberally sprinkled with sugar, but not even that could cheer me up. Professor Slughorn really did look like a walrus, from where I was sitting. He was sat next to Professor Boot, a DA veteran who took on the charms and Ravenclaw Head of House posts when his predecessor, Professor Flitwick left. On his right was Professor McGonagall, who was followed by Professor Sprout. Next to Professor Sprout was Professor Bobbin 2nd DA, transfiguration teacher, followed by Professor Finch-Fletchly, another 1st DA veteran and muggle-studies Professor. There were quite a few of them really. Hogwarts: A History says they were taken on when there was no-one else suitable after the war, and they were kept on because they were so good.

Even after less than 48 hours after I had joined the school I could tell it was very different from the muggle school I had left behind. After all, it was the best school in the country for magic, educating nearly half the population of magical Britain. Places were decided based on an electrobiotic energy sensor, which finds the most magically powerful children in Britain. To get here you were one of the best, and MY did the students know it. A school full of powerful children that is very prejudiced and classist. A recipe for disaster if I have ever seen one.

The 4 Heads of Houses descended from the head table clutching stacks of parchment. The hall quietened, and we all awaited orders. First Years were handed their timetable, which instructed Slytherins to proceed to the first floor for Transfiguration with Professor Bobbin. I tried to ask an older student where to go, but they pushed me away. The students in other houses told me to get lost. Well, actually, their words were, "Get lost you filthy snake, go ask your own bloody house, the traitors". I couldn't find Scarlett, and all the students were filing out by now. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun round. The kindly face of Professor Sprout stared at me and said:

"Are you wondering where to go deary?"

"Yes Professor, I need to get to Transfiguration, but no-one will help me." Finally a friendly face.

"Don't worry, you'll learn soon enough. You go up the stairs to the portrait of Gifford Abbot and tell him I sent you and that you are a lost first year, and would he please grant you entry. You end up in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and you'll find it then."

"Thank you Professor."

"Don't worry m'dear, you get on your way then."

"Yes Professor, Bye Professor." The crowd pushed me away.

I followed the instructions, along the corridors that were gradually becoming more and more deserted and eventually I found my self infront of a portrait of a man dressed in old fashioned clothing who was looking down at me.

"What do you want, Daughter of Salazar?" He said.

"Please sir, I'm very sorry to disturb you, but Professor Sprout told me this is where I should come. You see sir, I'm lost, and I need to get to Transfiguration."

"Polite, you are young maiden. I would have said Sir Cadagon is more suited for quests, but there you have it. If our esteemed Head of House has judged you worthy of my help, I shall grant it. Pass, and best wishes for your years at Hogwarts."

"Thank you sir!"

"No problem, young snake."

I was faced with a courtyard, just as told, on the other side. It was a nice courtyard, but not as nice as the clock tower court yard. It was mainly grass, with some benches and a sculpture that was slightly knocked to one side. Noise issued from one corner, and when I investigated, I found the rest of the class. It appeared that we were sharing this class with the Hufflepuffs, and I found Claire in the middle of a circle of them.

"What do you want snake?" Asked one of the crowd: a large, brash Hufflepuff standing at the back of the Hufflepuff contingent.

"I came to talk with Claire."

"Why would you want to, she's a blood traitor to you lot." Came another. It's the same no matter where I am, it seems. No-one wants me. I'm all alone.

A voice butted in. "Leave Amber alone, we met on the train. She's actually muggleborn. I don't know why she's a Slytherin." Well, then again, Claire seems nice to me. Maybe I will have a friend.

"What, Slytherins are all Pure Blood supremacists!" Laughed one of Claire's companions.

"Yeah, are you sure this isn't a joke?" Said another, giggling at the idea that I was actually a muggleborn.

A single Slytherin turned and spat at me. "You have her. We want nothing to do with her, the filthy mudblood."

"Shut up." I tried to keep my voice even, but anger bubbled over, and they just laughed to see I was getting upset. Bloody leaking hosepipe. That seemed a common occurrence these days. No, I can't cry. Not now. Not when they are right here. I'm not alone now. No weakness. I can't be weak, I'm a Slytherin. All I want is for someone to care about me. The splodge of spittle slid down my face, but I wiped it off using my sleeve.

"Come here Amber." I was enveloped in a warm cuddle, while others fought my battles. "Leave her alone. It's not her fault. Why can't you see that? I should expect no better from the House that Ran!" Why was someone else fighting to defend me? No-one defends weirdoes. You stay away from them, like they are the plague. I learnt that early on. Not even the teachers defend freaks. Why would that change?

"At least we are still alive!" Was the retort from the sea of green. "You had so many die. Even your precious Cedric Diggory is only famous for dying!" I know that name, Cedric Diggory, but I can't remember where from. I get the point of the insult though, and it isn't nice.

"I don't care, they are the reason you are still here, even if they died, they deserve credit, unlike your lot, who went and joined snake face!"

A shadow engulfed us. "I'll have none of that Miss…"

Claire spun round in a panic to find our teacher standing there, arms folded, waiting for an answer. "Appleby, Professor." She responded.

"Ah, Miss Appleby. Yes. 10 points from Hufflepuff."

"But I was provoked Professor!"

"No more, not another word. In." Our teacher commanded. We filed into the classroom in silence, Claire making sure that I stayed well away from the Slytherins. We plonked ourselves on a bench on the other side to the Slytherins. We knew we were not wanted.

"You there, what's your name?" The teacher extended a single spindly finger in my direction

"Amber Darrow, Professor."

"Well, Miss Darrow, are you sure you wish to sit there. Especially after Miss Appleby's comment. You Slytherins usually stick together."

"Yes Professor."

"If you are sure." She sighed. But the next comment was muttered so quietly that only a few could hear it, including myself. "Well that will fail within the week." I was acutely mistaken if I thought the teachers were any different here, it seemed. I chalked Professor Bobbin up as one to avoid if I needed help.

The lesson went smoothly enough. It seemed even the Slytherins knew when to shut up. For some reason, the Slytherins glared at me when I earned us 10 points for being the first to complete the spell. The glowers turned deathly when Claire received 5 for being the second, because I had helped her. Why did it seem like I probably wouldn't see the term out? I had the impression that I had more death threats than a politician.

DotDotDot

Oh bloody hell, where on earth am I? All I can see is grey stone. This castle is a menace. Where is a magical map when you need one? I bet the famous Harry Potter never got lost. He probably had a map of Hogwarts! It's a hazard. How many firsties have they lost over the years. They'll probably never find me, and I'll die from thirst, hunger and exhaustion. Then years later some other lost kid finds my rotting corpse and they die next to me, because they can't find their way out either.

I should be in Herbology right now. I was so looking forward to it as well. At least I knew Professor Longbottom was nice. The History Professor, a petite woman named Professor Cocoyam down right disregarded all Slytherins, and refused to pick me to answer questions. Professor Slughorn had ignored my protests when he made me move from a desk on my own next to a fellow Slytherin, and appeared not to notice when Nott sabotaged my potion, and placed the blame on my "faulty potion skills". Faulty my arse. It was perfect before he interfered. It wasn't turning out to be the best day.

I retraced my footsteps and found the stairs. I tried to regain my bearings to remember how to get to the greenhouses. I mounted the stairs frantically looking round, trying to work out which door to go through. I saw some feet poking round a corner, so moving as softly as I could, I attempted to slide past the upperclassmen. It didn't work. A pair of faces stared down at me, eyes wide with opportunity.

"Look here Jacobs."

"Well well well, if it isn't the little mudblood. Jacobs' little sister told us about your Transfiguration lesson this morning."

"Shouldn't you be in lessons? Chumming up with some whiny Hufflepuffs."

"Well…well…I could uhm ask you…fine…gentleme…" My head was frantically shaking. I shoved, trying to escape the dragon's grip they had on me.

"I think we should play a game. Isn't that what all you little ones like to do?"

"And what game do we play Moorlands?"

"Well, what do you suggest, Jacobs?"

"How about 'creative curses'?"

"Sounds fun. So, shall I start?" The other boy bowed to the former. A wand was turned on me.

"Nononono I'll do anything! Please!" I pleaded, like my life depended on it. I couldn't escape. Everything was closing in on me. The walls came closer and closer, or was that just my imagination.

The boy caressed the wand, tracing his forefinger up the patterned handle. "You know a favourite of mine is furnunculus." Large, pulsing boils marked my visage. "Desaugeneo, isn't half bad either." Chipmunk teeth covered my lips, right down to my chin.

"Pathetic Jacobs. Rictusempra is much better." I was laughing uncontrollably, mostly thorough panic. Fear crept up from behind me. Ouch! My over grown teeth bit down on my chin, causing it to bleed. I tried to scream but there was no air to scream with. Escape was impossible; I was pinned from both sides.

"Finite Incantatem." I was granted a respite, a chance to regain my awareness. That was soon taken away though.

"Locomotor mortis." I had to work hard to keep my balance. Who knew those years at ballet actually did me some good?

"Hey Moorlands, I think our little toy doesn't want to play anymore. She isn't screaming hard enough. I prefer it when they scream. It makes everything more worthwhile."

"Quite true. I think we are going to have to disappear now anyway, Jacobs. Goodbye mudblood. I'll pass on your regards to my sister." And with that they turned to leave. But then Jacobs turned back with a predatory grin on his face, like he had just thought of the most amazing plan. "One last thing." He kicked my shins, still firmly stuck together. Toppling, I tripped on the steps and was sent flying. It was a weightless sensation. I would have felt elated had it have been for fun, but I was terrified. Grey stone, a colour that seemed omnipresent in my life at the moment, loomed closer and closer, bearing my impending doom.

"SMACK!" I collided with the floor at a tremendous speed. CRACK! Shooting pains shot through my leg, my chest, my wrist, agony being too much to bear. Tears streamed down my face, clutching at my broken body, screaming for help; a help that wouldn't come. Even that exertion was too much to cope with, my chest feeling like it was on fire.

A predatory grin loomed over me. A foul, revolting face elated with glee from extracting a modicum of response from his otherwise uncooperative toy.

"I see now you choose to play along you foul, revolting excuse for a witch, mudblood. Sad thing is, I'm going now, so I'm going to have to end our little playdate. Until next time…If there is one." His foot had an immediately impending date with my face and there was nothing I could do to stop it; I was trapped. The filthy sole on his shoe came closer and closer. It connected with lightning speed with my face. Pain, indescribable pain exploded in my nose. I watched as the world grew fuzzy, and I was consumed by a blackness that swept over my whole body, and the last thing I heard was the cruellest laugh I had heard in my short, yet mostly unhappy life.


End file.
